


kicking summer out on its treacherous ass

by nutmeag83



Series: snapshots of autumn [4]
Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Autumn, Banter, Established Relationship, F/F, Foliage, One Shot, Picnics, Post-Alecto, Post-Canon, Victory Tour, lyctor? i barely know her, perfect lyctorization, sort of but not really a wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeag83/pseuds/nutmeag83
Summary: Part of thesnapshots of autumnseries, which tells stories of ladies in love during autumn, this story can be read independently.Harrow and Gideon have won against God after several years of hardship apart. They deserve some time alone. Harrow grumps. Gideon frolics. The end.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Series: snapshots of autumn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921387
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	kicking summer out on its treacherous ass

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from _Salem’s Lot_ by Stephen King, because it’s totally something Gideon would say. This takes place after the events of _Alecto_ , but since that’s not out yet, my story makes some assumptions. I do not necessarily believe _Alecto_ will end this way (even though they’re things I hope for), but these assumptions suit my story. (1) Harrow and Gideon and Cam and Pal achieve perfect lyctorization (i.e., both alive and immortal, switched eye colors). (2) Harrow and Gideon get an HEA. (3) They win against God and get to go back to the Ninth after. 
> 
> Not beta’d. We die like Gideon (i.e., come back later and kick ass). 

“Holy shit, I’ve never seen this much color in my _life_ ,” Gideon groaned, head whipping every which way as if she’d miss something if she wasn’t looking at everything at once.

Harrow rolled her eyes and flapped her arms, hoping for a breeze. It was too warm, and the sun beat on her dark hair, making her sweat in her black robes. Gideon had stripped down to a tank and trousers in the shuttle, leaving her robe in a messy pile on _Harrow’s_ seat.

“Are you _frolicking_?” asked Harrow, absolutely zero percent surprised, but feeling like she needed to at least make an effort at being annoyed. Gideon once said her resting bitch face was one of the things she loved most about her, so she tried to make it at least once a day. Gideon had argued that the point of RBF was its natural state, but she’d kissed Harrow anyway, then promptly wiped her mouth and “yeched” at the paint that had stuck to her lips.

“Why shouldn’t I frolic?” Gideon yelled, halfway across the meadow they’d landed in. “We’re the good guys that beat the bad guys. We deserve a victory tour, adoring fans, parades, music lauding our heroic deeds.”

“Then why are we in a garish field on a foreign planet by ourselves?” Harrow pulled her robes away from her neck in hopes of coaxing a breeze to cool things down. The only thing it coaxed was a whiny bug that bit her on the back. “Ugh.”

“Because you don’t like crowds or music or anything fun, oh night mistress of zero fun.”

“So you brought me to hot meadow filled with bugs, sun, and bright colors? Are leaves even _meant_ to have that many colors? I thought they were all green.”

“We did the dank and dead church thing yesterday. My turn to pick. And it’s not hot, it’s just a little warm from the sun. Also, Camilla said the colors were fantastic here this time of year. It’s called _autumn_.”

“I know what autumn is, dumb ass.” Harrow crossed her arms over her chest, even though it was far too warm to have anything touching.

Gideon sighed dramatically, made a final prance, then loped over to skid to a halt in front of Harrow, who raised an eyebrow. Gideon simply grinned.

“What are we doing here?”

“Looking at pretty colors! Have ever seen red this deep? Orange this bright? Gold this glimmering?” She waved her hand at the nearby trees at the edge of the meadow.

“Yes, I saw red this deep yesterday evening when you pricked your thumb while testing your blade. I see orange this bright _always_ when I look at your ridiculous hair, and gold this glimmering every time I look in the mirror.”

Gideon winked one her own now-black eyes, which still threw Harrow off. At least they were the familiar black of the Ninth, and not the creepy oil sheen of God’s own. Thank God (no pun intended) that Gideon shared very little physically with her birth father, apart from their brown skin. And the horrendous sense of humor, but that wasn’t physical and therefore could be ignored by tuning the woman out. Which happened less these days, as Harrow was still so grateful to once again be able to talk to Gideon face to face, no longer parted by the River or physical distance.

“Come on.” Gideon grabbed Harrow’s hand, hauled her back to the shuttle, where she rummaged around until she reappeared with her robes and a knapsack that she slung onto her back. She grabbed Harrow’s hand again and this time hauled her to a nearby stand of trees, where she threw her rumpled robes onto the shaded ground in a sort of flat manner, then pulled the two of them down on top of it.

“Nav! You’re going to ruin your robes.”

“Better mine than yours. Although, you really should take those off. You’re going to roast. And there’s no need for roasting, I already think you’re hot.”

Harrow’s glower was hot enough to start a fire, but Gideon just laughed.

“Come on! We are the champions! Take a load off. Eat some lunch. Enjoy the views!”

“The colors are making my eyes hurt.”

But the protest was half-hearted. It was hard not getting caught up in Gideon’s enthusiasm. After the past couple of years, they deserved a break from the madness, and although this was so not her scene, she had to admit it was a nice change from space and people and death. She closed her eyes to feel the thalergy of an un-flipped planet, safe from future run-ins with Resurrection Beasts. The life wriggling around her was an unfamiliar shock, even after all the time she had spent flipping thalergy to thanergy during her training. It was nice to not think about wading into the disgusting, brackish waters of the River and taking all of this away. It was nicer seeing Gideon happy and goofy and _alive_ , even if her eyes still weirded Harrow out. A small price to pay to have the person who understood her best back by her side. Forever. Well, for myriads at least. The perks of perfect lyctorization. This terrible meadow didn’t even seem that bad when she put it in that context.

Gideon sprawled on her side and leaned on an elbow as she dug through the knapsack, materializing a few half-smooshed sandwiches, apples, two bottles of something, and a box strong enough to come out of the knapsack unscathed.

“White bread, no crusts, bland tofu and cheese for Miss Picky,” Gideon dropped the sandwich in front of Harrow’s crossed legs, “and a gorgeous everything sandwich for me.” She kissed the package before unwrapping and taking a big bite, some sort of pink sauce dripping down her chin. She grinned. “Eat! And for Me’s sake, take off the damned robes. You’ll sweat out any calories otherwise. Plus, I have to sit with your stinky ass the whole way back in the shuttle.”

Harrow pinched the bridge of her nose. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not God. You can’t curse in your own name, Griddle.”

“God, daughter of God.” Gideon shrugged. “Same same.”

“Not remotely. Thank- somebody.”

“Thank me.”

“Definitely not.”

“Please, Harrow?”

“I’m not thanking you.”

Gideon waved a dismissive hand and furrowed her brow. Harrow knew that furrow. It meant she was about to be mother henned. “Not that. I mean, please relax. Eat. Enjoy the colors. Soon enough we’ll be back on dreary Ninth. Home sweet hole-in-the-planet. You’ll be busy running the House, I’ll be … I dunno, posing for tourists to feel my amazing biceps? Re-enacting the battles I fought in? Whatever.” She looked remarkably serious for once. “I just wanted us to have a little time to ourselves, before things get crazy again.”

Despite the solemnity, Harrow felt a grin lift a corner of her mouth. “This isn’t a victory tour. This is a honeymoon, isn’t it, Griddle?”

“What? No. Not- No.” Gideon looked away, scratching the back of her neck. “Just, ya know, some … quiet time.”

“What if I want it to be?”

Gideon whipped her head back around, eyes wide. “You’d want– But it’s– We’re not married.”

It was Harrow’s turn to pretend nonchalance. She shrugged. “Well, it’s just that there aren’t too many immortal people in the universe, and you’re the only one I can stand. I’m not about to go search out another partner, just after I got you trained up.”

A suddenly shy smile played at Gideon’s ever expressive mouth. “You like Pal and Cam well enough.”

“At a distance. I’m happy sending letters and visiting on occasion. But you’ve been by my side most of our lives. It’d be weird for you to leave.” Starting to panic after showing her hand, Harrow began to backtrack. “That is, if you _want_ to. I know you hate the Ninth. And you have friends scattered all over. I’m sure you want–”

Her mouth was stopped by another mouth, warm and soft and comforting yet somehow exciting.

“Yes.” The words were whispered against her lips before the kissing began anew. Having this, for eternity, Harrow could get used to.

They eventually fell back onto a robe-covered ground softened by leaves that crunched. Harrow looked up into the fiery canopy above them as Gideon traced soft squiggles up and down her bare arm (yes, she’d finally removed the robe). The orange really was remarkably close to Nav’s hair. She could finally see the beauty in it that Gideon had seen upon landing. She didn’t want it forever, but for now, it was … very nice.

“So,” Gideon whispered into her ear. “I just realized that as your cavalier primary, and us being basically married, I can now say that I–”

“Don’t you dare, Nav. I had to hear it from Magnus already. I do _not_ need an encore to that terrible joke.”

Gideon cackled and kissed Gideon’s cheek. “You’re no fun.”

🍁🍂🍁

Forever perfectly preserved on Harrow’s desk was a black metal frame, the clear plex displaying three leaves—one as red as blood, another gold as coins (or eyes), and the last the same riotous orange of Gideon’s hair. When asked what they were for, Gideon always answered first: “a marriage certificate.”

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that Gideon frolics like that black dude on Twitter did. He's adorable, and so is Gideon.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed frolicking along. <3


End file.
